OTreacherous Conscience! while she seems to sleep, On Rofe and Myrtle, lull'd with Syren Song; While she seems, nodding o'er her charge, to drop On headlong Appetite, the flackned rein,
And give us up to Licence, unrecall'd, Unmarkt ;----As from behind her fecret ftand, The fly Informer minutes every Fault, And her dread Diary with Horror fills: Not the grofs Act alone employs her Pen; She reconnoitres Fancy's airy band,
A watchful Foe! The formidable Spy, Lift'ning o'erhears the Whispers of our Camp;
Our dawning Purposes of Heart explores,
And steals our Embryos of Iniquity.
As all-rapacious. Ufurers conceal
Their Doomsday-book from all-confuming Heirs;
Thus, with Indulgence moft fevere, She treats
Us, Spendthrifts of ineftimable Time ;
Unnoted, notes each Moment mifapply'd;
In leaves more durable than leaves of Brafs, Writes our whole hiftory; which Death fhall read In every pale Delinquent's private Ear;
And Judgment publish; Publish to more worlds Than this; and endless Age in groans refound. Lorenzo, fuch that Sleeper in thy Breast! Such is her Slumber; and her Vengeance fuch For flighted Counfel; fuch thy future Peace! And think'ft thou still thou canst be wife too foon?
But why on Time fo lavish is my Song? On this great Theme kind Nature keeps a School,
To teach her Sons Herfelf.
Each Night we Dye,
Each Day, a Life!
And shall we kill each Day? If Trifling kills: Sure Vice must butcher. O what heaps of flain Cry out for Vengeance on us? Time destroy'd Is Suicide, where more than Blood is fpilt.
Time flies, Death urges, Knells call, Heaven invites,
Hell threatens; All exerts; in Effort, All;
More than Creation labours !----Labours more?
And is there in Creation, What, amidst
This Tumult Univerfal, wing'd Dispatch,
And ardent Energy, fupinely yawns ?---- Man fleeps; and Man alone; and Man, whofe Fate, Fate irreversible, entire, extreme,
Endless, hair-hung, breeze-fhaken, o'er the Gulph A moment trembles; drops: and Man, for whom All elfe is in alarm: Man, the fole Cause
Of this furrounding Storm! and yet he fleeps, As the Storm rock'd to reft.---Throw Years away? Throw Empires, and be blameless. Moments feize, Heaven's on their Wing: a Moment we may wish When Worlds want Wealth to buy. Bid Day ftand Bid him drive back his Carr, recall, retake Fate's hafty prey; Implore him, reimport
The Period paft; regive the given Hour.
Lorenzo, more than Miracles we want: Lorenzo-----O for Yesterdays to come!
Such is the Language of the Man awake ; His Ardor fuch, for what oppresses Thee: And is his Ardor vain? Lorenzo! No: That more than Miracle the Gods indulge: To-day is Yesterday return'd; return'd Full-power'd to cancel, expiate, raise, adorn, And reinstate us on the Rock of Peace.
Let it not fhare its Predeceffor's Fate ; Nor, like its elder Sifters, die a Fool. Shall it evaporate in Fume? Fly off Fuliginous, and stain us deeper ftill? Shall we be poorer for the Plenty pour'd? More wretched for the Clemencies of Heaven?
Where shall I find Him? Angels! tell me where, You know Him; He is near you; Point him out;
Shall I fee Glories beaming from his Brow?
Or trace his Footsteps by the rifing Flow'rs? Your golden Wings, now hov'ring o'er him shed Protection; now, are waving in Applause
To that bleft Son of Forefight! Lord of Fate! That awful Independent on To-morrow! Whofe Work is done; who triumphs in the Paft; Whofe Yesterdays look backwards with a Smile; Nor like the Parthian wound him as they fly; That common, but opprobrious Lot! Paft Hours If not by Guilt, yet wound us by their Flight, If Folly bounds our Profpect by the Grave; All feeling of Futurity benumb'd;
All God-like Paffion for Eternals quencht; All relish of Realities expir'd;
Renounc'd all Correfpondence with the Skies; Our Freedom chain'd; quite wingless our Defire; In Sense dark-prison'd All that ought to foar, Prone to the Center, crawling in the Duft;
« AnteriorContinuar » |